Going Back To The Start
by GummyBearaddict
Summary: A fanfiction based loosely on Coldplay's song the Scientist. A USUK Story about love, acceptance, pain, confusion and forgiveness. I hope you like it. Contains tear-jerking moments. I do not own the songs in this story (c) Auburn and Coldplay


**Hello Fanfiction people who actually like my work; so meaning no one 8'D. Sorry I haven't updated Empty Wedding Bells (EWB) and Language Barrier (LB) I've been busy working on life, and this story! Recently I've been going on a song spree for really good music (meaning no Justin Bieber. Sorry JB fans) and I stumbled on my favourite Coldplay song (well one of my favourites, I have so many) which was ColdPlay's The Scientist. That night I had a vision of USUK stuck in different songs; one of which was this one. It was the saddest one among them, and probably one of the better ones. I loved working on the idea even though it hurt to type since it's so painfully long and I've been going through a lot of personal drama lately, but it's done, it's finally done. I apologize if it's not amazing; since I am not an exceptional writer; average at the best. I hope you enjoy it; I tried to focus on the hard facts of gay couples and later on about emotional dilemmas, I hope I did the idea justice. I loved doing this song base fanfiction; and if anyone has a suggestion is message me if you've got a song and a pairing you'd like me to give a shot. Thanks for your time! I will be working on an update for EWB after my Church camp this following week and I'll make sure to make it an extra long chapter, because you people are wonderful for coming to my fanfiction profile ;u; I want to hug all of you so much.**

**Note about the story: Alfred and Arthur are both human. Michelle, the OC I made for this story (i couldn't think of a best girlfriend for Arthur so I made one up; I hope she's not a Mary-Sue. ;A;) I hope I haven't made their pasts confusing though...I'm sorry if it's not too fantastic, but I put a lot of love and effort into it. Enjoy**

* * *

_Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry_

"Please Arthur? I really need to talk to you. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean what I said. I need you. I love you." The text sent from his phone again. Another text Alfred had sent in the last hour; the 15th text actually. He gripped the edge of the railing, his hand going into the pocket of his pristine uniform again absent-mindedly, touching something in the deep pocket, smoothing his fingers over something velvet and box shaped. His crystal blue eyes were clouded with an unsure nature, his lips pursed in a thin line. He adjusted his thick rimmed glasses once more out of habit, checking the screen of his phone again. Nothing.

"Come on Arthur…" He whispered, pressing the phone to his forehead in frustration, his forehead creasing. Alfred was used to being ignored by his lover of 9 years. It wasn't that they weren't in love, it was that the man in question now; Alfred, was sometimes very tactless in the way he brought across his point. There was much to make fun of his lover for; to which Alfred had taken acute interest in.

For one thing, Arthur had massive eyebrows. Well they were not **that **bad, but they were relatively thick since in his eyes they looked quite attractive. His lover also could not cook. There was only one time he had actually chosen to try his food, and that left him in a hospital having his stomach pumped after he had been violently sick after consuming the 'hand-made scones made with love' he had made. Most of his food looked unappealing anyway, maybe it was the fact that most of them were on the verge of having nuclear properties simply by being a pastry. Arthur also could not hold liquor well, and that made him a threat to living humanity when he's drunk a pint or so of ale or beer.

What had Alfred done now? There were many factors straining the relationship. One of which was work. Alfred worked in a big Medical Firm, working late hours into the middle of the night trying to save lives. He was always stuck in the operating room; he was the person between life and death. A drop or two extra, a simple slip of the wrist could have killed someone. Arthur had taken to understanding that the love of his life was going to be busy, and for a long time he continued to believe this. But Alfred had taken a few steps too far. Having missed events like their anniversaries and some of Arthur's biggest moments, (He was working at a local TV station as a presenter for the news) he wasn't being selfish, but Alfred's job was consuming way too much of his personal life, and sometimes cutting into his love life.

Arthur had, at the beginning of the transition, accepted that time with his lover was going to be busy majority of his time. He had tried with all his might to fit his own office hours with Alfred, having to forgo a lot of his own personal time to try and convince his boss to let him off at the hours he needed to see him. But as time wore on, Arthur felt less and less motivated and more and more frustrated. Even with giving up his time, Alfred showed no effort to come home. He hadn't told Alfred how difficult it had been, nor how much it hurt him to have him come home and talk for only a given 15 minutes. Arthur had felt a strong annoyance with himself, trying to persuade himself that he was being selfish toward Alfred's career, but this was costing Arthur time, health and mental sanity. He was also in a foreign country, away from what he grew up with. From his hometown of Hampshire to Atlanta City, Arthur had felt the full impact of it. He felt like a fish left for dead on dry ground.

When he had chosen to date Alfred, he knew he was already asking for trouble. They were both male; and both of them were deep in Christianity. Religion aside, it was frowned upon by the society that they were homosexuals; whether involved in the church or not, it was viewed as ugly. Arthur was also from England, and Alfred was not going to move away from him country and home. So after graduating from University, he had decided to settle down with the American in a shared apartment in the heart of Atlanta. It was where Alfred's office was, and it wasn't exactly Arthur's favourite place to be. When he finished his work, he often stuck around his area before heading home; trying to avoid the odd stares he got from his neighbours. He was living in a cosmopolitan area with traditional values; one of which was a deep running hate for homosexuality. Oh there were a handful of people who did accept them, but not quite enough to avoid the hell he felt. And he was at a cracking point. He didn't so much as turn to look at his lover anymore.

Arthur hardly ever saw him anymore. He had chosen to lag behind and pick up extra jobs around his office just to avoid contact with him anymore. It was too painful knowing that his job was more important than the love they had shared for 9 years. It was like waking up to a realisation, a painful one. His lover was drifting further and further from him.

_You don't know how lovely you are_

Alfred let out another long sigh, holding his phone in his hand, trying to distract himself. Walking over to the small break room, he poured himself a mug of strong black coffee. He enjoyed his coffee immensely; the caffeine oddly enough calmed him down in these situations. He pulled the steaming mug to his lips, his eyes closing slightly as he let the scorching liquid go down his throat, not caring that it burned his insides greatly. Slowly, he closed his eyes, continuing to press the hot mug to his already burning lips.

An image formed in front of him. It was the image of him, his lover. He was standing on the porch of the house he had planned to always buy them if he had the money to, standing in the brilliance of the setting sun. He was dressed in a plain white shirt that fell to his wrists; a smart pair of black slacks on, his hair was messy and unkempt; as it always was. And for once his beautiful emerald eyes were not filled with sorrow; they were filled with love and hope. He swore he could hear the strum of a soft guitar in the distance. The image of his lover shifted over to him, his hands stroking his cheek slowly, whispering sweet nothings with a pale flush and a gentle smile. It was to perfect.

He opened his eyes again, realizing his glasses were now fogged from his hot coffee. He placed the mug down on the stainless steel table, picking his glasses off and cleaning them on the corner of his uniform. After fixing his glasses back on, he finally felt something hopeful. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

_I had to find you, tell you I need you_

Arthur had finished another day at work, filing papers together in his folder. He was trying with great desperation to block the loud-mouthed lover from his mind to no avail. His phone kept constantly buzzing as he sat at his desk. He couldn't take it anymore. He placed his folder down in defeat and picked up his phone, scanning the screen condescendingly. His suspicions were right; it was Alfred. What did he want now? More of his time? To move somewhere else? His blood maybe? He thought with acid, his lips pulled in a thin line, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Please Arthur? I really need to talk to you. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean what I said. I need you. I love you." Silence filled the Brit's mind. He held the phone in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he gripped on tighter to the edge of his desk, his breath wheezy. Weeks and weeks of mental torture, emotional turmoil and now this. He picked his reading glasses off his nose, placing them on his desk, his eyes drifting back to his phone again, as if expecting Alfred's face to appear on the surface, or suddenly hear his voice behind him. Nothing happened as the screen went dark.

"Hey Arthur, want to join me for dinner?" A sweet voice rang out, breaking Arthur's staring contest with the floor. He glanced up to see the face of the newly brought in intern for the TV station standing in front of him. She was quite a pretty thing, he thought to himself discreetly. She had red glasses hiding a pair of wide grey eyes and messy curly brown hair she always wore in a loose ponytail, a spread of freckles on her pale skin. She had already put on her coat, ready to leave the office, her bag slung around her shoulder.

"…Not tonight, Michelle. I…have other matters to do." He said in a heavy tone, shifting back to his desk, tapping the screen of his phone again, looking down at the message, half expecting her to have walked off. But she didn't move away, her curious eyes glancing down at his phone. She gave a small smile, tapping him on the shoulder. "Hey now, we're all stuck in a painful relationship every so often." She said calmly, giving a quick comforting hug. "If you need anything, give me a ring Arthur, I'm the listening ear." She gave a small wave and departed from the office, leaving Arthur looking miserably at his phone, his eyes glinting with the glaze of tears forming in them.

It was amazing what a young intern could pick up from merely reading his body language, he had to admit, and he needed to give her more credit for that. He tucked his papers away, giving another heavy glance toward the phone, his hands gripped tightly on the edges of his desk as he stood over it. The question was now; to text or to not text?

_Tell you I set you apart_

Alfred picked his phone out of his pocket, a surge of relieve washing over him to see who had messaged him at last. But the message was dismal. "Sure. I'll meet you. Where." There was no emotion in it, no sincerity; absolutely dead. He took a heavy breath, turning the phone over in his hand before keying in a response, his once vibrant crystal eyes dark and emotionless. "Outside The Pier shops. Meet there at 7."

He put his phone back into his pocket, his throat going dry. He couldn't express any deeper how much he loved Arthur without doing it face to face. He had regretted having his job cutting so much into his love life, but there was no doubt that he was madly in love with the British man. He was always on his mind as he went through methodical days and long outstretched nights. Nothing made the American happier than knowing that he loved him back.

But as of late, Alfred forgot to show him his affection. "I love you Arthur, more than anything in the world." The same words he had said to Arthur years back when they began dating echoed in his head as he waited for the elevator slowly crawl up to the 5th floor. The dimly lit glass interior of the lift greeted him as the doors slid open for him, a blast of sterilised air blowing upon him. He breathed in the heavy scent of disinfecting and entered the lift. He pressed the button, leaning against the back of the lift, removing his surgeon's smock.

He needed to tell Arthur everything. Everything he was thinking about. That he needed him, that he loved him. And more importantly, he couldn't live without him.

_Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions_

There was so much Arthur kept from Alfred, it was almost like they lived separate lives at times. They were polar opposites. Arthur was the calm, slightly shrewd intellectual individual and Alfred was the hot-headed, slightly loud-mouthed hyperactive ball of sunshine that couldn't keep himself in a spot for more than five minutes. And this fact had weighed Arthur down for months.

He needed comfort, he needed shelter. Every time he tried to stir up a conversation with Alfred, it was quickly put down by a very tired and agitated man, asking for him to stop talking for a minute. Arthur didn't feel like a lover anymore, he felt like the lap dog, bidding to sexual needs and chores around the small apartment. He felt used and tired of having everything about him torn into shreds.

He picked up his bag after stuffing his glasses, screen script and flask into it. Once again his eyes went to his phone, another message from Alfred clearly on the screen. It was regarding the location to their meeting. It was rather secluded in his mind, and quite romantic. Was he trying to pull a romantic stunt for him? The tears welded in his eyes as he pressed the lift button in front of him. Was he really trying to redeem himself? Arthur felt his eyes strain to hold back the urge of weeping. He was not a man to crack under the influence of bitter emotions; after all he had had worse. But this was another kick in the face. Slowly but surely, he pressed in his answer.

* * *

Alfred watched the lights of the overhead levels flash briefly as the lift descended toward the car park. The building was relatively empty and secluded for once. The silence in the car park was very strange indeed; the only sound evident was the constant buzz of the old neon light fixtures on the ceilings, or the soft whisper of a patient's family talking. He felt the soft buzz of his phone again, a surge of another wave of relief washed over him, His hands travelling to his pocket again to whip it out.

"Alright. 7'o clock it is. It better be important you git." There was the Arthur he knew and loved. He gave a small smile, cradling the phone like it was a bar of gold. He walked through the deserted car park to his motorbike. As he sped off from the office, sure his boss would have his throat at this point. His mind drifted off to memories, happier memories, when things were less complicated.

_Oh, let's go back to the start_

"Alfred? Where are you taking me?" Arthur said breathlessly, his annoying friend dragging him along some deserted path, a blindfold pulled tightly across his eyes. Alfred let out another chuckle, still pulling on the man's hand to the small garden in his backyard. He had planned to finally tell the person he had been harbouring feelings for ever since that first homeroom period together that he loved him. Something so daunting to Alfred that he had rerun the scenario in his head over and over again trying to smooth out anything that might potentially go wrong; he had come up with 347 things that might have gone wrong.

"We're going somewhere special…" Alfred said in an excited whisper into the man's ear, finally stopping in his tracks and saying a breathless tone. "We're here." He inched behind him, removing the blindfold for him, a lovely scene meeting Arthur's eyes. Set before him on Alfred's usually scruffy lawn was a picnic mat spread on the freshly cut grass, (obvious from the smell and the lawn mower hidden in the corner) a small basket sitting on it and a set of candles accompanied it; along with Alfred's beloved guitar case sitting amongst it.

"…Did you go to all this trouble just for us to discuss homework?" Arthur said in a flat voice, trying to hide his own growing excitement. He also had found the American devilishly handsome and suave, but of course also finding his larger than life personality a little off putting. "Of course not you silly! I…have something more in mind for us this evening." Alfred replied, leading the man over to the picnic mat, sitting on the mat, petting the spot next to him quickly, inviting him to sit with him.

Arthur walked slowly over, taking in a deep breath of the night's air and freshly cut grass. He sat down next to the American man, giving him a small smile to match the nerdy large grin on the others face. The only light that they had was the dim candles, the moon and the less romantic glare of florescent light from his porch jutting out from the side of the house. "This…this is lovely Alfred. But for what occasion?" He muttered, brushing his fingers through the grass blades, trying to feel a little less awkward, noting that the man was shifting closer and closer to him with each ticking second.

"I…have something to ask you Arthur. But I cannot express it through words…" His eyes inched toward his guitar case, his smile getting wider. He gripped the case behind him, unzipping the worn black case covered in American flags and Super hero stickers from Marvel. Arthur watched in marvel as the battered looking guitar was removed, also covered in many stickers. Alfred picked up the instrument and his guitar pick, pursing his lips in concentration. Soon enough, he started to pluck at the strings.

"For many long years, I've known this special man— "He strummed along, tapping the edge of his guitar for a beat. Arthur watched him with an amused expression, his arms crossed upon his chest. He couldn't help but feel like chucking something at the man's head for being such a hopeless romantic for something as small as asking someone to date them; although he enjoyed the intimacy and the way Alfred began to almost turn coy.

"And I've got this special man a special song. I couldn't write a song to express my feelings enough for you…" He paused for a moment before giving another wide grin before starting to strum. "Forgive me if this is really cheesy. One, two, three." He gave a deep breath before diving into the song.

"You can be the peanut butter to my jelly. You can be the butterflies I feel in my belly. You can be the captain. And I can be your first mate. You can be the chills that I feel on our first date. You can be the hero. And I can be your sidekick…" He continued to strum 'Perfect Two' by Auburn, his own eyes filled with a strong affection for the man in front of him. He kept his eyes on Arthur whenever he could. "We're the Perfect Two…Will you let me choose to be your perfect half?" He finished off his song with a final strum that hung in the air between them. He gave a meek grin, before it dissolved into a slightly worried frown, his hands moving across the strings for something to do.

The seconds ticked away as Arthur kept his gaze firmly on the guitar, his mouth covered by his hand, constantly rubbing his face as if he was doing a lot of mental deliberation. Alfred gave a nervous smile, somewhere in the back of his mind telling him this was a bad idea from the start. "…It was a lovely song, Alfred." Arthur finally spoke, his hands dropping to his sides, his eyes lingering on the guitar before looking up at Alfred. Was he really about to do something insane by saying a big yes? Was this what he really wanted? "I…" he didn't finish his sentence, his lips sealing shut, chewing his lower lip nervously as he did so.

"…I knew this was a bad idea…" Alfred finally confessed, his face a flustered shade of red, placing the guitar back down, slightly disheartened. Alfred was always known as the ladies' man (in this case; not so accurate) and usually had no problem charming people along with him. But this was different from anything he had ever felt, and a lot more confusing. "…" Arthur pushed the guitar down gently, inching toward Alfred, a small smile on his lips, his eyes filled with earnest and something deeper than that; it was longing.

_Running in circles, coming up tails_

"Alfred." Arthur started in a firm voice, trying not to sound too harsh. "Are you sure about this?" Was all he managed to choke out in the end. He cleared his throat again, his face turning a slight dust of pink. "I…Let me start from the beginning, shall I? Alfred. This is not the simplest of things to say but…I do love you. More than love actually, it's almost like an embarrassing liking to someone who I'd probably be left in my own deluded imagination to dream about. But you're here, actually confessing affection to me. Do you know how unbelievable that is? We're not exactly perfect for each other…" Arthur paused, moving his hand nervously onto Alfred's before slipping his fingers together with the other. "But it feels damn close to the real thing, if you catch my drift. What I mean to say is…I, Arthur Ignatius Kirkland …love the knuckle headed idiot that is Alfred Jones." He finished off, clearing his throat again. "But don't expect further better treatment from me." He said in haste as if he had just insulted Alfred's entire family.

_Heads on a science apart_

"So…I take it you're saying yes?" Alfred replied, feeling the warmth of the man's hand on his own, gripping his hand back.

"…Well actually, I don't know. There's so much against us, Alfred. For one thing, we're both from very respectful, god-fearing families. What would my mother say to her beloved son turning into a poof? Or a cunt. Mum and Dad are not exactly favourable for their only son to go off and be a homosexual unicorn are they?" He said, trying to pull a smile, only resulting in a loop-sided frown. "God is not in our favour, nor our family, if I do decide to…become your…boy—I mean, partner." Arthur said his face contorted with a pained frown, his hand tightening more on Alfred's. "Also, what would our friends think? Our communities think? It's not like choosing a clothing choice, or choosing your home, this…this causes so much pain and toil. Are we ready for this? Ready for this aslant…We're going in this alone, Alfred, there is no doubt about that. And…Are we ready for a relationship? I mean we're young, we're naïve, our education is more important than kissing and hugging. And we're in University, when we leave, will we have money for a home? Or a life together? I've never lived in the USA for so long, and I don't know anything here. We have no money, no connections, what the hell were we trying to do." Arthur's eyes avoided Alfred's, his fingers making small circles on the back of the others hand, his lips pulled in a fine line.

_Nobody said it was easy_

Alfred placed his guitar back into the case, taking his hand from Arthur's, His usually jolly composure now dark and serious. "Arthur, I want you to listen to me really carefully. I love you, more than anything in the world. I'll go through hell to just be with you. Hell, I'll even take the ridicule of my brother if it means I can be with you…" He paused, his thoughts drifting to his twin brother who was still residing in the comforts of home while he slaved away in University. "We'll make it, with or without our family and friends. We'll show the world that gender doesn't matter!" He said, almost a tint of heroism in his harsh tone. "Arthur, listen to me." He said, trying to pull back the attention of the man who was now looking away from him trying to avoid contact.

"Listen to me for once! I'm making perfect sense!" He replied to the harsh face of disbelief in the others. "We'll make money; I'll make enough money for us to live in luxury! I'll sell everything if I have to, this guitar, these candles, my pants if I have to! Anything to keep you here…" he whispered, pulling the man's face up to meet his. "We can do this. Just you and me against the world. You'll be the only one I need out there."

"Oh very romantic when we're starving or homeless…" Arthur said in a tone of acid, rolling his eyes. Alfred gave a longing smile, inching his hand from Arthur's. This was the Arthur he knew, not this world fearing man, but this sarcastic, doesn't care about what you think attitude. "We'll be facing the world will we? We'll die trying you idiot; get it through your head." He pulled his hand from his forcefully, giving a glare in his direction, rubbing his hand where Alfred had been gripping it. "You and your stupid imagination, you always think you're the greatest hero, like everything is going to go your way just because you try. Life doesn't work that way, it never does." Arthur replied, his voice straining to hold back the cracks. He got up from the mat, dusting his clothing down.

"I'm going home."

_It's such a shame for us to part_

"Wait. Please. I wasn't kidding." Alfred grabbed Arthur's shoulder, clambering up from his mat, trying to compose himself, the fear obvious in his eyes. "Please. Hear me out, Arthur." Alfred turned the other around, his hand still gripped tightly on his shoulder. Being that much taller than Arthur, his moved his crystal blue eyes down to him, his lips curled in an uncertain frown. "Listen for a minute…That's all I need, Arthur. Give me one minute."

Arthur shook his head, pressing his own hand onto Alfred's. "Listen to me first. You need to know what you're doing. You're a hot-headed mess. Please understand me, Alfred." Alfred fell silent. He gave a small nod, his eyes widening in earnest, a small jolt of hope lighted in him as he noted that Arthur was making an attempt to touch his hand; and he knew how much of a 'fan' of human contact Arthur was.

_Nobody said it was easy_

Arthur took a deep breath, his hands dropping from Alfred's, nervously knotting them in and out of each other to gather his thoughts. After he paced along the grass for a while, he finally turned back to him, taking another sharp breath.

"At school I had crushes on boys, though I didn't talk about them or act on them: I knew not to. My friends were beginning to show an interest in girls, gawking at the images of shirtless women in playboy magazines. I was more interested in the men lined in my mother's fashion magazines clean and crisp in black simple suits, even then, I could classify as…sexual."

"When I was in Sixth Form College (around the age of 15), I tried to talk to my aunt about it; the only woman I actually liked– even then, I had wanted to tell someone for a long time. No one else was around when I went over to my aunt's house; my uncle was out on a business trip, and I was more frightened than I had ever been in my life. I was really crying when I finally told her, but she wasn't appalled. She went on to say that these sorts of feelings were normal for a young man going through puberty, and that as I got older I would "work things out". She calmed me down and fed me an entire plate of biscuits, offering hugs and sweet nothings."

"It was the best response I could have hoped for in my head – understanding and non-judgmental. But as well as feeling relieved, I felt strangely subdued. I had hoped for instant acceptance of who I was, but was left instead with the thought that perhaps if I waited long enough, things would change. My aunt was there to back me up all the way, but my mother, who didn't know, used to go on and on about how gays were immoral. But I couldn't help wondering how I would "sort myself out"."

"After that I tried to push it out of my mind. I waded through life trying to forget what I had done that day, trying to fix what I was. That possibility slowly formed the basis of an enormous disowning of who I was. I tried to fit in with my straight friends and convince myself that I fancied girls. I even had a couple of short relationships. At this stage, my relationships – if you could call them that – were all with girls. I kept asking myself why they weren't working. But still I held on to the faith that eventually I would find a nice girl, and we'd get married, have children. I was trying to fix myself into the son my mother always wanted; a respectable family man."

"Remember last week? During the last few hours of our lecture? Do you know why they were making shocked faces at me? I finally came out and told my friends, I thought I could trust them. Most of them greeted that I was joking, they still do. Do you know how much that hurts? Knowing that your best friends think you're pulling some stunt? Alfred, you've never had it hard. You have no idea what I've been through. You live in this bubble. Your mum and dad are open to gays and your friends think you're the god on this earth; that you can do no wrong. Me? I'm the little speck you see on the surface of the clear water. The impurity."

"Although I feel incredible relief, at 19, I'm also entering a new and isolated world. This is my new world – the world of the young, single, newly out man. It's deeply baffling – not to mention isolated, though now, you're asking me to be in a relationship with you. Coming out as a gay is not, as many straight people seem to think, similar to entering a private, chic club, where shyness is chucked aside along with the boxer shorts. Meeting a partner can be fraught as a straight, more so as a gay man. Finding a well-matched man is one thing; perceptive whether or not he's really gay is another."

"And…you're here for me. Do you know how perfect this seems for me? This is all like a fucking fairy-tale; it's so unbelievable for me. It's almost like I'm setting myself up for a trap. If I rely on you Alfred…do I know that this is what you want? Not just because people are telling you you're gay or saying that I have feelings for you; do you really want to be with me?"

Arthur inched toward Alfred, placing a shaking hand on the others cheek, his last few words hanging in a whisper. He was not usually this affectionate, but something in the back of his mind was nagging him to agree to this overflow of human emotion.

_No one ever said it would be this hard_

Alfred felt his throat constrict during Arthur's little life story. It was true his mother and father had said before that if he became a gay man, they'd still be proud of their little boy, but he knew in the back of his mind they were disappointed in him anyway. They were such a respected family, and word getting out in his community back home would mean disaster for his parents' wellbeing. He didn't know Arthur had had all this hardship. He had assumed his parents had been as forgiving and accepting, but the reality was that his mother and father were god fearing people as were his parents, who believed in upholding dignity in the bible than their own first born son.

He confessed to Arthur because of one rumour going round the school; that Arthur was gay and had affection for the hot-headed American boy. He didn't know if this was true, and the prospect of being gay had not dawned on Alfred. But nothing could remove that person from his mind. He was up almost every night deliberating to himself if he truly had feelings for the man who was supposedly in love with him. Could he, possibly be the thing that many people saw as a taboo? Was he really in love with Arthur Kirkland?

He didn't know his mother and father were genuine homophobic and almost hated his existence, whether or not he was gay. They were only prideful when their son exceeding their higher-than-the-average-child-genius level. Alfred, even if he had confessed to his parents, would be loved and highly respected by them. He grew up in a loving family who did their best to adapt to his needs. As for Arthur, he was the only son of a couple who couldn't be bothered with their son if he wasn't a child prodigy. Everything that Arthur had of hope in life was crushed by his father, who expected him to inherit the family business and be an old 'scumbag' much like his father, counting down his days with hundred dollar bills.

He didn't know what it was like to be in a family like that. It was like smashing into a wall; the truth hit him, and it hurt.

"…Arthur. I didn't know…" he managed to say in no more than a whisper. He simply pressed his own hand onto Arthur's, keeping his gaze on the others eyes, as if all his sincerity was going to transfer over to him. "Forgive me. And allow me to fix you. Fix you up. I wasn't kidding about devoting my life to you, Arthur. You're one hell of a person to be with, you know that? Your cynical nature and cut-throat comments are endearing…Not to mention your 'wonderful' cooking." He added on an after comment, and for once since their conversation had started, he pulled a genuine smile, looking more like himself.

Arthur paused, taking in a deep breath. "This is really what you want? Then…I accept your offer." He said in a matter-of-fact tone, not bothering to make it sound too floral or sweet. That was all Alfred had to hear. And with that last few words exchanged between them, Alfred pulled Arthur closer, their chests nearly touching. "Yes, this is really what I want. Everything I ever wanted." And with that, Alfred slid his hand up to Arthur's back, pulling him in closer, planting a soft, delicate yet passionate kiss on the others lips while the new moon of the evening cast the only light left from the evening onto them, their free hands intertwining.

_Oh, take me back to the start_

Alfred's mind clicked back to the flashing lights of the road ahead of him, the loud honking of the impatient driver behind his motorcycle struck him out of the daydream. He revved his vehicle again, speeding off through the heavy evening traffic, swerving through the gaps with ease. He needed to find his brother; he needed to get something right for once. Even if it cost him some time, he needed to see his brother Matthew urgently. He continued rushing through traffic, the cold night air whipping his jacket back, a whistling drone hit his helmet as he sped his motorcycle up, the engine groaning in protest. He was either trying to speed or trying to break the speed of light.

He scanned the darkening road, looking for the house he needed. There right at the end of the jolly looking street was the house he needed. 34 Balmoral Road, the house his brother and current girlfriend lived. He whipped his motorcycle into the drive, plopping his helmet down, checking his watch again. The tiny clock face showed the clear hands; 6 o'clock exactly. "I have time." He thought to himself, walking up the wooden door etched with frosted glass on the panelling, the metal sign hanging above the arch; the happy home of Matthew and Yekatherina (Matthew's current Ukrainian girlfriend he had decided to buy a house together). He took a deep breath, drawing on the confidence he had left and rapped on the door.

The face of a slightly gangly man with long blonde hair a similar shade as his, pin back in a ponytail, a pair of bright blue eyes stared back at him behind thick-rimmed square glasses. He had broad shoulders and gave the impression that he could be slightly intimidating if he wanted to be, but he wore a wide grin addressing the man standing on his doorstep. "Hey Alfred! What brings you here? …Something wrong?" Matthew could already sense something wrong on his brother's face from the way he looked slightly fretful. He invited Alfred in for a cup of coffee, calling out to his girlfriend that he had company.

Trotting into the room with a bubbly air about her was Matthew's long term girlfriend; Yekatherina, a Ukrainian woman he had met during his work as a zoo veterinarian. He was lucky enough to meet her during her internship as a his assistant, she loved the job and Matthew so much she chose to stay in the US with him instead of going home. She was what you called…busty. But she was very sweet and seemed to care deeply for everything with a beating heart, which made her perfect for his also sweet-tempered brother. She had short hair that was a very fine, light blonde that fell into a short cut; she seemed to radiate motherly love on her own.

"Matthew? Oh hello, Alfred! How are you?" She said cheerily, slightly oblivious to the tension between the two men, or she chose to ignore it. "Come sit down. I'll bring in something for you to drink." She said, gesturing to the soft looking sofa, turning back to the kitchen before leaving them alone again. Matthew cleared his throat, walking over to the sofa, settling down opposite Alfred who had sunk into the way too feather filled armchair. A few minutes passed before either could speak.

"What brings you here then, Alfred? Obviously not to pay me a visit." Matthew said in a slightly annoyed undertone. It was true he loved his brother, but Alfred only came round if he needed advice or something from him. It was true they were twins, but Matthew was by far the more mature of the two brothers.

"I'm here to talk about…about…Arthur." He finally said with a sign, cupping his face into his palms, venting his frustration by rubbing his face raw. Matthew had known about the alleged gay partner of his brother's for the past 9 years, and covered majority of his emotional and physical dilemmas. He honestly liked Arthur, he thought he was a very straight-forward man who could screw Alfred's head into place, and Alfred didn't give his lover enough credit or love to satisfy Matthew's apparent justifications. Matthew crossed his arms, adjusting his glasses, giving a slightly irritated look towards his brother before gesturing for him to begin.

_I was just guessing at numbers and figures_

"Matt, remember what I told you before I started working at the medical firm? That all I wanted to do in life was save people's lives, build families, at the time I wanted to the hero, the saviour of many, I wanted to make a difference in people's lives." Yekatherina re-joined them with a tray of hot spiced tea; something Alfred needed after rushing through the autumn winds at what felt like a way too fast a speed, and settled down next to Matthew, with a slightly sober expression. Alfred made a grab for one of the painted mugs, taking a small sip of the steaming drink to calm his nerves, his cheeks going an obvious tint of red.

"I wanted to save these people more than I wanted to exist. I lost control of what I was doing to my loved ones; I detached myself from you, from mum and dad, and more importantly I forgot about Arthur. He didn't know the area, I was leaving him in a world where he knew no one and where he received no affection…I didn't realize I was forgetting everything he told me 9 years ago, everything I promised, I didn't listen, I forget everything. And now I'm going to lose him, because I was stupid and selfish to him and I was more focused on playing the hero all the time. I didn't care about the fact that Arthur had moved here to be with me, I was being egotistical, and I was being an idiot. As always."

"But I want to change my ways, I want to fix my past mistakes. I want to let the world know I love him as much as my job, even more than that actually. I need him to know what I want to do. Matthew, tell me I'm going to do the right, tell me I'm not going to screw up, tell me it's going to be okay." He muttered, his hands gripping the mug in his hands until his knuckles turned white, his face sickly and sweaty. Matthew had never seen his brother in such a state before. He lowered his crossed hands, his face softening. Yekatherina was dabbing the corners of her eyes with a small square if cloth, trying to stem the tears flowing from her eyes.

_Pulling the puzzles apart_

Alfred felt Matthew's grasp on his hand, prying the mug from his hardened fingers. "Alfred, you're not an idiot. You're just ignorant. Listen to your brother for a second, will you?" He pulled a weak smile, tightening his grasp on Alfred's hand. He sat by the side of the armchair Alfred had placed himself on and pulled him in closer, rubbing his back slowly, trying to calm his brother who was on the verge of tears. "You're a wonderful person, you know that? You're not in the wrong trying to help people and save lives, you're doing a terrific job at it, bro. You're just not making time anymore. You're trying so hard to help people with their sick loved ones, you're forgetting the one thing that made you pick medical school; the love of your life. You're forgetting there is someone here who wants the best for you."

"You're right about the fact that you ignored him, but make it count now, Alfred. You need to let go of your mistakes now and make a difference. Now why was it so important to see me Alfred? You're smart enough to figure this out yourself, we know you are." Matthew finally let go of his brother's hand and settled back down next to Yekatherina, running his weary hand through his lose front fringe before turning back to Alfred. "What else have you got to tell me, bro? I've got all night, and from the looks of you, you don't. You've already planned to meet him haven't you?" He said in a thin voice, casting an eye to the wall clock.

Alfred gave a meek nod, pursing his lips. This was the one thing that he both loved and hated about Matthew; he knew about his messes even before he told him, and this got them into a fair amount of fights and quarrels over this since Alfred wasn't always careful. "Y-Yeah, but it's not only going to be dinner and what you call heart-to-heart talk…I want…to ask him something important, something life changing." Alfred twisted his fingers together, his palms getting sweaty again.

Matthew raised an eyebrow again; what was Alfred implying. Much to his oblivious nature, Yekatherina tugged his sleeve, giving a beaming grin. Matthew pulled a slightly confused face, turning from his girlfriend to Alfred. "Oh how exciting, Alfred! I cannot believe you're actually going to do it! Are you sure about this?" She said in earnest, holding onto Matthew's arm tightly, her cyan eyes wide with both excitement and fear for him. Matthew was slightly lost in a world of his own; for once he couldn't see what his brother was doing.

_Questions of science, science and progress_

"Yeah I know it's risky, but I truly love him. I've made my decision already, and I know the hell we've faced; especially Arthur. But I know what I'm doing is right, we may move away from here though, go somewhere else and start a new life where he isn't weighed down by my job the whole time. Somewhere where he's less miserable and I can show him what he means to me; everything. He's my world, and nothing's going to change that, and I'm going to do it. And I need to leave now and get it to him, I need to tell him. Thanks for the tea Yekatherina and thanks for the well wishes Matthew, I know what I have to do now." After he said this, he once again placed his hand into his jacket, _touching something in the deep pocket, smoothing his fingers over something velvet and box shaped._

He jumped from his seat, holding the velvet box in his hands one last time before placing it safely in his pocket again. There was a new light on his face again, a slightly excited school-boy look to it. And for once that evening; he pulled a genuine smile, one he had always pulled, but had long since lost; it was Alfred's smile. "What I don't understand what you're trying to do here. You've got 5 seconds to explain!" Matthew also jumped up and ran off to the door, standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched blocking him from trying to escape.

Instead of getting upset, Alfred's smile got wider, his eyes filled with a bright glint that hadn't shone in a long time. He straightened his back, his shoulders broad, curling his lips up into that cheeky grin. "Matthew, you always said you wanted an in-law right? When we were much younger? Well, your wish is going to come true tonight. When I meet Arthur at around 7'o clock dude, I'm going to propose to him, you're getting yourself and English in-law." And with that he dashed out onto his brother's drive, hopping onto his motorcycle and blazing off into the sunset, leaving a considerably confused Matthew standing at the doorframe, his mouth wide open as he turned back into the house muttering under his breath.

_Do not speak as loud as my heart_

Arthur stood outside his office building, checking his watch again; it was only 6.30pm. "Another half an hour till judgement day…" Arthur thought cynically to himself before glancing back at the busy roads in front of him. Not owning a car in this city wasn't too much of an issue, there were buses, taxis, undergrounds and other sorts of ghastly public transport to get him around. There was nothing wrong with public transport, but Arthur was not a fan of the concrete jungle and longed for him home of England were in his town he could run around in a misty back garden to his heart's content without a worry about the air pollution.

His mind drifted to the thoughts of his home town, where he had friends and a social life. His parents were never connected in his life, and that suited Arthur since they never made an attempt anyway. His life was his to splurge. There was cold air and frosty mornings, as compared to the crisp, yet slightly empty feeling streets he now walked. There was character to where he lived, but he was now a resident of this faceless city lights and glamour. To many it was a wonder, but to the man who had endured it for so many years; it became a depressing beacon to him, reminding him about his current situations.

The lights for the cross roads flashed in front of him, knocking him from the surreal outskirts of a frosty country-side to a crisp concrete crossroad in front of him. He gave a deep sigh, making his way across the road, moving amongst the herds of people swimming with him. The usual throng of people talking on their phones and the loud screech of tires and honks strained his ears. He kept his head down as he tried to blend in with the crowd, pulling his thick scarf around himself tightly. It wasn't that it was cold, but he enjoyed the sense of security that his old knitted scarf his aunt had given him before he left home for University, it stilled smelled of her oddly floral perfume. Before he could do much else, there was a cry from near him. It wasn't the simple drone of the traffic or business associates on the phone; this one was shrill and full of fear. Arthur pricked his ears up, following the eyes of the many onlookers. It was from the mouth of a little girl.

The girl was standing stalk still by the side of the street, her hands gripped tightly on her stuffed rabbit in her fingers, tears streaming down her face, fear evident in her wide eyes. Standing by her was a man evidently drunk, his clothing filthy and grime-filled, his face covered in short, dark stubble obviously not shaved for weeks. Arthur felt a twinge of pity for her, and growing hate for the man beating her on the shoulder, trying to get her to stop crying, why was no one else paying attention, or were they choosing to ignore? He couldn't stand the sight of the child being hit by the man; who for all he knew could have been her drunk-arsed father.

"Shut up and stop crying you fucking child!" The father screamed, hitting her across the face again. As Arthur closed in on them, he could smell the alcohol off the man, the obvious stench of no soap for weeks lingered on him; he was downright unpleasant. Arthur straightened himself up, clearing his throat as he approached, and the man's cold eyes following him. "Sir, put another finger on your daughter and I will make sure you regret your very existence." He said in a strong tone, his emerald eyes locked on the man's ugly, angered features.

He gave an intimidating growl, inching closer to Arthur. "You're trying to be funny are you? I can do what I want to my own child, you pompous English little scumbag." He said with malice before turning back to his daughter. "See this? This is what you get for helping people." And with that he hit the girl across the face again, her little figure crumpling down onto her knees, sobbing into the stuffed animal in her hands, pulling nervously at the loose strings like they held something that could reverse it all. Arthur made a grab for the little girl, but the father acted more quickly than he did.

With one swipe, he sent Arthur onto the floor with a bloody nose. Even with his obvious broken nose, he got up from the floor, dusting himself off as if nothing happened, scarlet blood dripping down onto his jacket, an almost animal-like anger seething through him. "You're not to touch that child; you have no right to do so. Now get the fuck out before I make you regret it." Arthur said in a low voice, his knuckles turning white as he balled them into fists. "No one touches the girl." He said in a commanding voice, holding out his fist to block the girl from his touch. He now had the attention of a few bystanders who had stopped on curiosity.

The man smirked, flashing his yellow teeth. "You think you're so macho? Bet your parents were just as unloving, you cannot defend some little kid and think you're the boss of me." Before Arthur could respond, he felt the violent push of the man. He couldn't sense anything as he fell onto the hard floor of the concrete, the sickening crunch of his head echoing in the shrill screams from the people on the street walk, the little girl screaming in protest. Arthur couldn't feel anything except for his sprawled body on the cold, hard ground, the painful shots hitting his head and spine, and the soft trickle of blood pouring from his head wound. He sat up, trying to get his bearings. All he could feel was the intense pain in his head, more of the same scarlet liquid now pouring onto his shirt and scarf, soaking it in blood.

There was another scream from the girl in the distant hearing of the already passing in and out of consciousness Arthur, followed by a sickening screech of rubber, screams hitting the air, gasps of shock and the soft grunt escaped his lips followed by a gurgling cry of pain. A car had run over his limp body, blood foaming from his lips, twitching in agony. Minutes passed and no one said anything, then out of the blue a woman bawled, taking out her phone, keying in several numbers. Arthur's world faded into darkness, the last few images he saw was the little girl standing over him, holding her toy, crying and whispering for him to get up.

As his mind popped into unconsciousness, one last image hit him; the face of his lover smiling and waiting for him on the Pier for him. "I'm sorry, Alfred…" He gurgled out before slipping into the dark.

_But tell me you love me, come back and haunt me_

Alfred stood by the Pier, pacing around the area, trying to calm himself down. This was nothing too big; just proposing to the man he had loved for the past 9 years, nothing **too **big. He took another calming breath, adjusting his hair in the reflection of the shop window, trying to smarten himself up in his rough work jacket. "You can do this, Alfred. You're the man!" He flashed a grin, trying to give himself a prep talk. He placed his hands in his pocket, taking a longing look at the small velvet box in his hands containing the ring. He popped the top off, going through in his mind what to do when he finally popped the question.

"Will you, Arthur Kirkland, do me the honour of marrying—no too formal. Yo Arthur! Want to get hitched? No, wait, too stupid. Arthur Kirkland-." He paused halfway through his next attempt to the ring of his phone, buzzing impatiently in his pocket; he replaced his phone with his ring, tucking it out of sight for safety. He picked up the phone, it was the man he was waiting for, Arthur Kirkland. "Hey Arthur! Where are you?" He chuckled, tucking a lock his hair behind his ear. "Usually I'm the one who's late! What's up?"

"Sir?" The voice on the other line was no Arthur, it definitely was not the English twang that he loved to hear in his lover's voice; this voice was obviously American. "Sir? This is the Atlanta Main Hospital. Is this Alfred Jones?" Alfred stuttered slightly, why was a hospital calling him of all people, especially on Arthur's phone? …Unless. "Y-Yeah this is Alfred Jones. How may I help you?" He dropped his tone down to a shaky cry for help, leaning on the railing in the side of the walk way for support, his knees starting to wobble.

"Mr Jones, we were informed to contact you from our patient; Arthur Kirkland. He has been recently hospitalized with a cracked skull and severely cracked ribs. We have reason to believe he will not survive the night, and this was the closest contact he had down to family. There is a 50-50 percent chance he will not make it through, either he will die or he will have suffered cranial damage so severe that he will not be the same again. Would you mind coming down? Sir? ….Sir? He is currently being surgically operated on for what we can do, but the chances do not look bright, please come down. Thank you, Mr Jones." And with that, the line went dead. Alfred pulled the phone from his ear, his face draining of colour; Arthur could be dying? The thought hit him harder than anything, knocking the air from him.

"No…Not Arthur, not now. Please be fucking wrong…" He said under his breath, holding back his tears forming in his crystal blue eyes, choking on the salty liquid he couldn't control anymore as he clambered on his motorcycle. He pressed his helmet on his head, biting down on his lips, stopping himself from screaming out to the world of the inner agony he felt and pushed off into the streets. Nothing crossed the American's mind as he sped off, the lights passing him, reflecting off his tea-stricken face.

_Oh and I rush to the start_

Arthur lay on the hospital bed, his sense a blur, nothing but the constant throb of his head every time he shifted, and his ribs screaming in protest whenever he took in a breath. A constant blink in the distance caught his attention, the shuffling of feet on a hard floor, the smell of disinfecting and cloth gauzes. He tried to move his hand, heavy tubing attached to it made it difficult for him to move without great effort. He took another hesitant breath as his chest tightened, a pain streaking through his chest like a stabbing knife. And with that he opened his eyes suddenly, letting out the only sound he had made in the last hour or so; a painful scream followed by the loud beeping of the monitors near Arthur going red.

* * *

"How many speeding tickets will I stack up tonight?" Alfred thought to himself, pressing his foot harder on the already squeaking in protest accelerator. Another weave here, another duck there; everything became so mechanical. Usually he enjoyed his little rides on his motorcycle, but tonight time was of the essence; his moves all mentally automatic. He gripped the handles tighter as he sped faster and faster in the evening traffic, the sky already becoming an inky black, wisps of grey cloud flecked the otherwise clear sky. "Move faster you stupid bike…" He muttered under his breath, trying yet again to exert more force, only to start feeling a shudder beneath him as the bike fought back. He egged it on, twisting his hand tighter on the handle, pressing forward.

The archway to the entrance of the dismally-lit hospital finally loomed out in the dark; a final light at the end of the tunnel. Alfred skimmed through into the car park, almost throwing his bike into the stand and flinging his helmet onto the seat before rushing off to the lift. He jammed on the button, as if by doing so the slow lift would move faster; it wasn't his night to allow things to be slow. Nothing moved. Alfred groaned searching for another solution and to his right was a door labelled stairs. "Damn." He cursed before pushing the door open and running up the flight of stairs as fast as his legs would carry him.

Usually Alfred was not one to run if it could be helped. Even though during his college and University years were spent doing any sort of sport he could lay his fingers on, he preferred to laze around the house playing video games and jamming crisps into his mouth. But now was not the time to be deliberating his lack of exercise as of late; since his job kept him on his feet enough. He kept up the pace, his heart pounding painfully against his tightened chest, sucking in as much breath as he could as he raced up the flight of stairs. And with that, he reached the hospital lobby area, nearly drenched in his own sweat and tears.

The nurse behind the counter gave a shrewd frown at the sight of this visitor, flicking through her motes as if he didn't exist. Alfred marched up to the counter, heaving for air and said in a raspy voice. "I need…I need…I-I need to see…Arthur…Kirkland…Which…Room…is he in?" He managed to stutter out, grabbing the side of the counter for support. The nurse gave a slight gagging noise as he zoned in on her, the smell of motor oil and sweat evident in his clothing. She scanned through her clip board for the name Arthur Kirkland, constantly throwing Alfred disapproving looks. "He is in Room 509. Please sir, maintain your behaviour in this building, this is a hospital not a—" Before she could retort at him, he gave a brief nod of thanks before dashing down the halls, scanning for the right room, ignoring the screams of protest she was hurling at him.

_Running in circles, chasing our tails_

"Where is the fucking room! Room 509!" Alfred shouted, trying to get the attention of the bypassing nurses, who all ignored him, a few whispering words like 'insane', or 'mental' to the person nearest them. Alfred heaved, leaning against the wall, slumping down onto the floor, choking on fresh tears. "Fuck this. Fuck everything." He screamed, cupping his hands into his drenched hair, his head pressed against the wall, the tears evident on his pale face full of worry. He had checked the desk again for directions, but the same nurse was not budging, almost enjoying the mental and emotional torture he was experiencing. He was lost in a world of his own knowing that his beloved was dying somewhere in a cold hospital room without him ever hearing his last 'I love you'.

"Alfred? Is that you?" A voice called out to him, a soft, gentle voice caressing his ears. He turned his head up to scream at whoever had disturbed him. A pair of soft grey eyes met his striking blue orbs; a fleck of red flashed. It was Michelle, carrying a bouquet of Tudor Roses, the young intern from the station that Arthur worked at. He was fond of her company, even if they hadn't really interacted as of late; the only time he had time to chat her up was during Arthur's office parties. (Which he had recently began to avoid due to working hours) He tried to pull a smile, offering his tear soaked hand out for a hand shake, but took to giving a sorry look before banging his head on the wall again.

She looked as if an arrow as shot through her heart, offering her hand to pull him off the floor. He accepted her hand reluctantly, more interested in wallowing in his self-pity and pain. Michelle gave a disapproving frown, trying to fix his mangled hair. "Alfred, I know it's tough, but banging your head to lose your precious grey cells isn't going to get you anywhere, nor is swearing at the nurses." She took off his glasses, cleaning them quickly on the corner of her jacket before placing them back on the bridge of his nose.

"You don't understand, Michelle. I cannot let go of him, I cannot live without him. I don't deserve him if I cannot even find the fucking room he's in!" He let out a slight whine, his eyes glazing over again; almost like a child. "Has banging your head on the wall knocked the sense out of you? You're Alfred Jones! You're the sweetest, smartest man I know of. You're going to give up over not finding a room? I'll take you over. But remember this; you deserve Arthur. Even if you haven't been the brightest of light bulbs recently, he still loves you, never forget that." She said in a matter-of-fact tone before grabbing his hand and leading him down the halls, turning left, then right before heading through another section toward Arthur's room.

Michelle stopped outside the room clearly marked '509' even in the dim light of the corridor, flickering in the nearly deserted hallway. "Here we are." She paused, flinging the roses into Alfred's hands. "These are for you. You're going to propose and you're going to mean it, you whiney loser." She said in a motherly tone too ironic for the scene at hand. "Wait how did you know—" "I know these things Alfred, no one has a big fall-out with their partner and askes to meet them without a big reason, that and the ring box is pretty noticeable under your tight jacket." She jabbed the pocket, before ducking her fingers in, placing the box in his fingers. "Now. Go and make me proud Alfred. Before it's too late."

It was only then did he realize the pain etched in Michelle's voice; she was just as sad at seeing Arthur in such pain? What was she doing here before him? "Why did you come down here, Michelle?" He asked quickly, lifting his fingers from the door handle. She gave a watery smile, her calm composure finally breaking down. "Arthur was a close friend of mine, but he's in a rut like I am. It's like watching a re-run here. I lost my lover years ago to the same unfortunate events; we were going to get married, but he was slow at the choice and look where it got him…" She tried pulling a sad chuckle. "Just because I lost my chance at true love, doesn't mean you have to." She cleared her throat, opening the door for him. "Go ahead Prince Charming, make my day."

And with that, Alfred entered the room, the still, angelic-like Arthur lying on the bed, motionless among the many wires and monitors.

_Coming back as we are_

"How are you, Arthur? Can you hear me?" He whispered softly as he placed the flowers on the side of his pillow, bending down to eye view. He stroked the loose hairs on Arthur's forehead, caressing the blood-stained, pale face of his lover, kissing the bare forehead. "I'm here. It's me, Alfred. That idiot you love? Yeah that's me." He chuckled softly, pressing his hands on his cheeks, kissing his forehead again, praying he'd open his eyes and he'd see those brilliant green eyes again. "Please Arthur, open your eyes. I need you. I need to ask you something."

"Arthur…you're my everything. Will you do me the honour of marrying me?"

_Nobody said it was easy_

A stirring came from Arthur, a simple flicker of his eye lid. "A-Alfred?" He croaked out in a sore voice, the expression of immense pain flashed on his face. He let out a harsh cough at the sudden intake of regular breath, his eyes watering at the massive impact of pain swelling in his head. Before he could respond, he felt the warm touch of Alfred clinging onto his body, the embrace sending a flush through his cheeks. Arthur let out a cry before breaking down in tears, embracing him back. "You're here. You idiot, you're here." He croaked, tears flowing from his face, not trying to restrain himself.

Alfred let go of his lover, pressing him back on the bed, pulling a chair closer, rubbing the tears from his face. "Arthur Kirkland, will you do me the honour of being Mr Kirkland Jones?" He popped open the ring box; revealing his mother's old engagement ring. It was a simple emerald encrusted by woven silver wires, the precious gem placed on the simple band. Arthur gave one look at it; an uncertain expression crossed his face. "Alfred…Are you sure you want to marry me?" A confused and slightly hurt look appeared on Alfred's face. "I thought you loved me enough to spend our lives together. Arthur, know you I love you. I was stupid in the past but I can change, I can make you happy, I can time."

Arthur hushed him gently, petting his hands softly. "It's not that…You're going to be married to a dying man, Alfred. I've been estimated about 3 or 4 years before I suffer a series of strokes from my swelling skull. I won't be here forever."

_Oh, it's such a shame for us to part_

"…You're lying. You're not serious." But the expression that greeted Alfred afterwards was a knock on his head. He was really going to lose Arthur, was he too late? He shook his head lifting the ring higher. "I don't care. We still have time to live together, to be a household together. 4 years is enough time with you then ever any time at all. The question still stands, Arthur, will you marry me before we run out of time?"

Arthur took one look at the ring, his heart sinking. Alfred was about to throw his life away to a dying man; but was this really what Alfred wanted? Was he just doing this to not isolate him for his last remaining years before he ran off with someone else in his life? The image hurt him deeper than he thought it might. "Alfred…Do you really want this? Is this what you really want? You can leave me to die if you like, I…don't mind. I just want you to do what is best for yourself, I am a dead man anyway, there is no use trying to defend me anymore… Please don't make it more difficult for me than it already is."

Alfred grimaced, gripping Arthur's hand, jamming the ring onto his ring finger. "Arthur, you're being stupid again. If I really loved you, I would do this. If I really wanted something better I wouldn't be in this hospital enjoying your last few years. It's not exactly a hobby of mine either following dying lovers around. Now would you stop being an idiot about this, and accept my engagement? I was serious; I want to spend your remaining days with you in my arms."

_Nobody said it was easy_

Arthur glanced at the ring on his finger in awed amazement for the next few minutes, as if it would disappear if he glanced away for a minute. "Do you believe me now?" Alfred said in a slow voice, holding onto Arthur's free hand, keeping his eyes glued on the amazement showing on Arthur's face. Arthur nodded as much as his head would allow, too shocked to say anything else. He was really engaged to the person he genuinely loved, the person he wanted to spend his entire remainder of life with. It was none other than the man who he had hated a few hours ago.

"Being hit by a car sure makes a difference doesn't it?" Arthur said in a mocking tone, dropping his ring hand onto Alfred's hand before enclosing them in a tight embrace. Alfred let out a weak chuckle, leaning in for a gentle kiss. "I'm going to make sure you have all the care you need. I'll run midnight shifts so I can come home and take care of you in the day; and maybe get Matthew and Yekatherina to help too. You'll like it there, their new home is really cosy, and you know how much she loves doting on you, she'll make sure you have all the care you deserve whilst I am at work. If I have to I'll get a different job for easier hours, just so I can see you every day, and treasure you."

Arthur gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Your first plan was great enough, I wouldn't want to breaking off from your dream job just for someone who's got a few years left. I'll enjoy my time at Matthew's and Yekatherina's, and I'll be happy with any amount of time you give me, as long as it's quality time, mind you." Arthur said, looking back down at the ring again. "This is all I need; you and me."

Alfred gave a weak cry, pressing his hands on Arthur's cheek. "You're a complete softie, do you know that?" He whispered to Arthur before pulling in for a soft kiss. It wasn't like the kisses they had shared recently; quick and meaningless. This one was just like their first one; it was tender, heartfelt and long. Alfred felt the pulse of his lover's hands, his own soft lips pressing on his, it was not exactly a fairy-tale, Alfred thought to himself, but it sure was damn enough close.

"I love you."

_No one ever said it would be so hard_

Alfred stood in the deserted scene, wrapped in his warmest things, trying to keep the feeling of his fingers up in the biting cold. It was late in the year and Christmas was a mere 6 weeks away; where shops were decked out in tinsel and light lit up the usually dim boulevard. The air was filled with the constant smell of holly and baked goods. It was a time for jolly merry-making among friends, families to get closer and for lovers to enjoy the cold weather wrapped in each other's arms. But Alfred had different ideas.

He brushed more forming snow on his shoulder off, his striking eyes shining in the slightly cloudy day. "Hello again. You must get tired of me being here." No response. "How is it there? Was it as perfect as everyone says it is? How's it like being there? Can you really see people from up there?" Again, there was a piercing silence. "Well, I'm here again today to bring you these Christmas roses; I know how much you loved roses. And I hope you're truly happy now, and your suffering is over after so long. Remember that I love you, and I'm really happy now; she stopped me from doing something crazy, she stopped me from committing suicide after your death. She told me that joining you in heaven would only irritate you, and she's right in a way. But I'm happy that I'm still here to be with you one last time. I know how persistent you were the night I promised to you about me finding a lover."

Again, there was nothing. "Well…Merry Christmas, dude. You were a solider through and through, you never stopped fighting, not even on your deathbed. I love you Arthur, and I always will." Alfred bent down placing the new wreath of roses Michelle had prepared for the now covered in snow grave. He rested it against the gravestone marked with a thick chisel: "Here lies Arthur Kirkland. A man does not dream his fortune but makes it. He will be missed by his friends and lover. R.I.P." Alfred lingered around the grave, almost like he would expect Arthur to turn the corner and tell him he was being a git and tell him off. But nothing happened.

Michelle stood by his side, holding his hand tightly. "Arthur, we always loved you, and I hope you'll wish us both luck in the future. You were the best friend an intern could have. You showed me the ropes and your kindness will never be forgotten in my life time." She breathed in, tightening her grip on Alfred's hand. "I hope you like the roses I grew for you, Alfred helped to put the ribbons on it; I know you didn't want anything fancy, but Alfred thought you might like some class on it. Merry Christmas Arthur…We love you sweetie. I'm glad your suffering is over, but sometimes I'm glad you were the one who went, because we wouldn't want you suffering the heart-ache we have now."

She finished off, praying silently by Alfred's side, hooking her hand up to his elbow, Alfred too low in prayer. She finished it, tears streaking down from behind her red glasses, her grey eyes filled with fresh tears. "Hey now, he wouldn't want you to cry as well, Michelle." Alfred said in a calm voice, turning to look at her. She gave a slight nod before turning back to the grave. "You always were a trouper, and I hope you're up there somewhere watching us and giving us your blessings. You were a special man, Arthur. More special for this world than you thought. I know you were fond of calling me an emotional git, but sometimes you were right, rest in Peace with our love in mind, my precious soldier."

They turned away from the grave, heading back down the pathway leading out of the graveyard. Behind them, they left the gravestone in the middle of the new snowfall, slowly being covered in fresh dusty snow, the soft chirp of a red-chest robin perched on the grave. It looked like any other bird, a bit strange it was still here in the heart of winter. It scanned the roses carefully; his usually black beetle eyes flecked with the same vibrant green for a second before vanishing into the same dull black. He puffed out his chest before flying off toward the sky; his musical chirps the only other sound above the last audible thing Alfred said. "Now that we've said our well wishes, let's forget about the sadness for a minute, and go have a well-deserved coffee." And with that the two people walked off, arm in arm, the picture of Arthur's bravery and brilliance imprinted on their mind.

_I'm going back to the start_


End file.
